Johnny stood up slightly. “You want to remove me. Fine! You got me! Let me state my peace first because I know with the execution happy fuckin family I have . . .”
“Sit down!” Grace slammed her gavel.
Elliott stood back up. “Captain.” He gave a warning look.
“I’ll never get a chance to speak again!” Johnny screamed. “Yeah, everything you say I did, I did!”
Grace was losing control. “Johnny, down. Sgt. Ryder, sit.” Her head went left to right.
“And you want to know why! It’s not you Pap and not you Uncle Robbie. It’s not even Beginnings.” Johnny pointed. “It’s him! It’s because of you, dad!”
Like all the others, Frank stood. “What?”
“Yeah. You. Everything I did, I did because I hate you. My father? You aren’t my father. You’ve never been a father to me. Your idea of being a father was to fuck around on my mother. You never paid attention to your kids and pretended to be the grieving asshole when your daughters died!”
A growl of emotions came from Frank and he rushed forward only to be grabbed by Joe and Hal.
Elliott tried to get Hal’s attention, but Hal was consumed with his family. “Captain.” He took a step to Johnny.
It took everything Hal had to hold Frank back. Frank’s entire body arched forward and his face screamed with his rage and hurt.
“Sit!” Grace screamed. “Johnny!”
“Fuck you!” Johnny blasted
Bang!
Hal’s fingers released the grip on Frank at the same time blood rained out from the close head shot Johnny unloaded into Judge Grace. Frank took one lunging step when Johnny fired again . . . Then again.
Frank went down and then . . . Joe.
Screams entailed in the courtroom along with the eruption of rushing bodies.
Elliot kept his focus. He quickly pulled out his revolver as Johnny jumped the rail of the witness stand. Elliott held his aim steady and then he fired. He hit Johnny at the same time he leaped through the huge window right by him.
The bellowing crash of glass was buried beneath the hysteria of the courtroom. Elliott rushed from the front to get out. The crowd inhibited him, gathering, joining, and mobbing around where Joe and Frank laid. He couldn’t get through no matter how hard he tried. Seeing it was useless, but not giving up, Elliot decided to take the same route as Johnny. At full speed, he raced for the window and jumped out.
“Dean!” Hal bellowed gut wrenching scream. So lost, he turned left to right and looked for help through the bodies that gathered around. ‘Move back!” he blasted at everyone as he held Frank against him on the floor. Blood flowed rapidly from Frank’s chest and Hal held his hand over it to try to stop it. “Dean.” Hal saw Robbie. Was he helping their dad? What happened to their dad? Hal’s head dropped in relief when he heard Joe’s voice.
“I’m OK. I’m OK, it’s not bad. Someone help Frank,” Joe yelled out.
It took all of their strength and emotions to break their small bodies through. The moment Dean and Ellen made it to Frank, they both dropped to the floor by him.
“Someone clear these people out!” Dean screamed as he watched the seeping blood come from Frank. He looked and saw Robbie. “Robbie, run to the clinic here. Have Blue set up an OR. We’ll stabilized Frank before we move him to Beginnings. Run!”
Robbie stood up from behind Hal.
Ellen knelt on the other side of Frank. “Dean?’
Dean remained calm. “It’s all right. It’s O.K. Frank’s tough.” He took off his shirt and laid it on Frank’s chest. “You’re tough, Frank. Right? Don’t you stop fighting? You hear me.”
Everything through Frank’s partially open eyes was blurry and distorted. He felt the shivering of his body but didn’t feel any pain. The voices were distant as if in a tunnel. El? Frank saw her as she looked over him.
Her words were deep and slow. “Hold . . . on . . . Frank.”
El? Frank thought he spoke. He didn’t. What’s happening?
Fading. Fading.
Darkness.
“I lost his pulse.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
He felt heavy.
Every ounce of Dean’s soul felt heavy as he peered down to the patient chart before him. He sat in Andrea’s office, reading, reviewing, and trying to figure out what he was going to do. His body should have been exhausted after the long day, but it wasn’t. He had too much in which to concern himself.
How many times did they lose Frank on the table? Too many to count. The bullet was lodged deep between the heart and the pulmonary sac and it took hours to get it out. They would have to stop the surgery, stabilize Frank, and start all over again.
But they made it through and Frank was going to make it even though he was far from out of the woods. For once, Salicain was going to come in handy and used for good instead of bad. They would completely immobilize Frank, giving him the rest his body so much needed.
“Dean?” Ellen whispered into the office.
“Oh, hey.” Dean closed the folder. “Hi,” He stood up and tucked the folder under his arm. “Did you get the kids to bed?”
“Yeah. I’m glad you’re back. Is Frank situated?” Ellen asked.
“Yep. “
Ellen kissed him on the cheek. “Good job today. No, great job.”
“I had help,” Dean winked. “Why don’t you go check on him? I want to catch Joe when he gets back.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh . . . yeah.” Dean nodded.
“There isn’t something about Frank you’re not telling me, is there?”
“No. He’ll be fine. He may not like it when we start the Salicain, but he’ll be fine. Go on. I’ll meet you there.”
“All right.” Giving Dean another kiss, Ellen walked away.
He let out a heavy breath that was a true reflection of how he felt and went back into the office.
^^^^
Ellen could hear the steady beeping of Frank’s monitor before she stepped into the room. She also heard the slight humming of something Christian. As she walked into the room, she saw Robbie at the foot of the bed. “How’s he doing?” she asked, laying her hand on his back.
“He’s out but stable.” He looked up. “Right? That’s what you said.”
Andrea turned from the intravenous she was checking. “That’s I what I said, sweetheart. He’ll be just fine. This man is tough.”
Ellen smiled and stepped closer. She kissed Frank first then embraced Andrea. “I didn’t get a chance today to tell you thank you. You and Dean did great on him.”
“You helped too.” Andrea grinned.
“There’s another thing I also want to thank you for,” Ellen said. “When Joe brought me to your house, thanks for believing me about everything.”
“Sweet Jesus, Ellen, when you told me that, I knew. I knew it wouldn’t belong before the charade was up.”
“And it is.” Ellen took her hand. “It’s so good to have you back.”
“No, Ellen,” Andrea spoke peacefully as she glanced at Ellen, Frank, and then Robbie. “It is so great to be back in Beginnings.”
^^^^
“What the hell can be taking him so long?” Joe bitched as he walked into the clinic with Hal. His arm was in a sling from the shoulder hit he took.
“I’m sure he’ll be back “
”What if he’s dead?” Joe asked.
“Good God, Father, can we be any more pessimistic . . . here.” Hal spoke in relief. “Here he is now.”
Joe turned to the doors when Elliott walked in. He was bloody and he looked tired. Joe grumbled, “The news isn’t good, is it?”
“We panned out,” Elliott spoke. “I found the trail not long after Johnny stole the Jeep. And then I found . . . the Jeep. I hit him. There was a lot of blood in the Jeep, but no Johnny.”
Hal was confused. “Where the hell did he go?”
“A circle of dust had formed around not far from here we found the Jeep,”
Elliott explained.
“They lifted him,” Joe said. “The call he made had to be for his escape. Well, we’ll start putting this back together tomorrow. Right now, I have the rest of my family to concentrate on.” He, Hal, and Elliott began to walk down the hall.
“Joe.” Dean stepped from the office. “May I speak to you, please?”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Joe asked.
“It’s really important. May I?” Dean showed his hand to the office.
“You guys go on,” Joe instructed. “I’ll be right there.” He followed Dean into the office and watched in oddity as Dean closed the door. “Something’s up.”
“Have a seat.” Dean pointed to the chair.
“I’d rather stand.”
“Joe . . . please.”
“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Joe snapped. “Is something wrong with Frank?”
“No.”
“Is there a community problem?”
“No.” Dean shook his head.
“Ellen? The kids? You?”
“No . . . .” Dean swallowed. “It’s you.”
“Me?” Joe chuckled. “Well, save it. I’m busy.”
“Joe,” Dean stopped him. “This is very important. I need to speak to you as your doctor.”
“Didn’t you get the bullet out?” Joe asked. “Christ, I knew it still felt sore. Goddamn it, why did you let my daughter operate? All right. When did you want to go in again?”
“No . . . It’s not the shoulder.” Dean ran his fingers though his hair as he took advantage of what little space there was in the office and paced. “Can we sit down?”
“No, spill it.”
“Joe, this isn’t easy. All right? It isn’t and it isn’t simple,” Dean spoke, frazzled. “Please.” Almost desperately, he looked at Joe.
“What is it?” Joe lost all irritation when he saw Dean’s face.
“We have to start right away. This can’t be ignored. Not for another second.” It was so hard for Dean to talk. “We . . . .we took an x-ray of the chest cavity to make sure there wasn’t any fragments that remained. I . . . . I found . . .” Dean brought his hand to his eyes.
“Dean,” Joe spoke calmly. “What? I don’t have time for this. I would like very much to go see my son and my wife. What . . . is it?”
Biting his bottom lip, Dean raised his eyes looking as if the world dropped out from under him. “I found several lesions on the left lung. Several, and they’re big. I need to biopsy to see the extent of . . .”
“Cancer?” Joe’s voice wisped out with an edge of shock. “Are you . . . are you telling me I have cancer.”
Dean clenched his jaw and swallowed. “Yes.”
“I see.” Joe’s eyes shifted about in a blank search.
“Joe, I . . .”
“Dean.” Joe just looked at him for the longest time. He stared into Dean’s green eyes that held so much hurt. Then Joe shook his head slowly as if to tell Dean, ‘please, don’t say anymore.’ With a lift of his hand, a deep nostril breath, and a few shocked nods, Joe turned and without needing to say anything, walked from the office.
^^^^^
ON DIVIDED BLOOD
Beginnings Book 16
INSIDE SLEEPING BEAUTY’S MIND
CHAPTER ONE
December 7th
Beginnings, Montana
The rage and hate filled words of his son shot through Frank Slagel with more pain than the bullet that ripped through the center of his chest. The force flew him back to the floor of the courtroom. For some reason Frank never felt the pain of the bullet, His mind was too confused. The outer ear noises were loud and meshed together. Hal’s panicked voice blared in his ear.
“Dean!” Hal screamed out, heart wrenching. “Someone move these people back! Dean!”
“Hal, calm down. I’m fine. I think.” Frank could have sworn he had spoken, but he realized the words only flowed from his mind. He tried to move but his body didn’t. He could see the faces. It was like watching everyone through a funnel.
“It’s all right.” Dean looked into Frank’s eyes. “It’s OK. Frank’s tough. You’re tough, Frank. Right? Don’t you stop fighting. You hear me?”
“Ok. Something’s wrong,” Frank thought. “Dean’s telling me to fight. Dean? Dean? How bad is this, Dean?” Frank tried to see what Dean was doing. His peripheral vision was shut off. Just as he spotted Ellen, everything went blurry and the voices faded as if drifting away in a tunnel.
Ellen’s words were deep and slow. “Hold . . . . on . . . Frank.”
“El?” Suddenly Frank grew confused. “What’s happening?’
Fading. Fading.
Darkness.
No more crowd noises, no panic. Only the sound on Dean’s lone voice. “We lost his pulse.”
Dead quiet.
“Fuck!” Frank’s angry blast echoed in a reverberation over and over then he found himself standing in a blackness. Tilting his head, semi-impressed, he nodded and grew angry again. “Fuck.”
It sounded like circuit breakers clicking on, one, two, three, and with them came the illumination of fluorescent lights.
Frank spun around, looking about the huge chamber he was in. “Oh wow,” he spoke in awe as he stared at the rows and rows of armory. He sniffed in the aroma of gunpowder and metal. “Oh, wow. I am dead and this is Frank heaven. Look at all these fuckin weapons.” He walked over to one shelf. As if he were a woman looking for a dress on Rodeo Drive, Frank grinned and lifted what appeared to be a high tech Bazooka. “I have never seen one like this before.” Just as he was about to try it out, figuring who could he hurt, everyone was already dead, Frank heard the footsteps. He hurriedly put the weapon down and placed on his innocent look.
He walked around the shelf. He stood tall, looked big, and was a spitting image of his prime days in his cowboy and war movies.
“Hey.” Frank grinned and pointed. “I know you.”
“Hello, Frank.” He walked closer.
“Oh!” Frank smacked himself on his forehead. “Oh, this is great. I know you.”
“Yes, you do.” He smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Wait.” Frank snapped his fingers over and over. “Don’t tell me. I know your name.”
“Frank . . .”
“Wait, don’t tell me. I should know this.”
“Yes, you should.”
“But don’t tell me.”
Annoyed, the man grumbled. “God, Frank.”
“That’s it. Thanks. God.” Frank nodded. “Wow. Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like John Wayne?”
“I am.”
“Am what?” Frank asked.
“John Wayne.”
“No.” Frank shook his head. “You do.”
“Do what?”
“Look like John Wayne.”
“That’s because I am!” he yelled. “I am!”
Frank nodded very passively. “I get it. It’s that ‘I am everything’ thing. Sorry. I get it now.”
John only groaned.
“So I’m dead.” Frank started looking at that cool shelf again.
“No.” John shook his head. “You’re sort of in a limbo, waiting. You’re in a coma and your body needs your spirit to leave for a while so your mind . . . quit playing with the guns, Frank . . . so your mind is not thinking of anything. Pain and sorts. You’ll heal better and I told you . . .” John reached out and put the bazooka back. “Quit that. Understand.”
“No playing with the guns.”
“No, do you understand about the limbo?’
“Yeah. I hang out here until my body can handle my mind.”
John nodded impressed. “Very good.”
“But I’m not dead?” Frank asked.
“Did I not just tell you that?”
“Just checking. I want to make sure El and the kids don’t get upset.”
“They won’t,” John explained. “Your body will state you’re alive. You’ll stay here until your body awakens
from the coma. In your case . . .” A slight smirk hit his face. “You’ll wake up but Dean is injecting you with Salicain.”
“No.”
“Yep,” John said, pleased. “He thinks it’ll help.”
“That sucks. So how come I was in a coma before and I was never here?”
“You never were this bad,” John replied, “and not everyone gets to hang out here. I guess the powers that be think you’re special.”
“I am.” Frank nodded. “But not I am in the same way you are ‘I am’. I am as in my I am. I mean I am . . .”
“Frank!” John snapped.
“Man, yell at me. For God you have . . .”
“I’m John Wayne.”
“Same difference. You are ‘I am’.”
“Frank.” John rubbed his eyes. “Listen . . . put down that gun!”
“All right. Fuck.” Frank laid down the souped up M-16. “Is everyone in Heaven this snippy?”
“This isn’t Heaven.”
“It isn’t Hell.”
“Oh, you don’t think?” John said with sarcasm. “It is for me right now.”
“I’m confused.”
“When aren’t you?”
“Many times. See, I can . . .”
“Frank.” John stopped him. “This isn’t Heaven, this is limbo.”
“OK, OK.” Frank lifted his hand. “Just making sure you aren’t lying to me to stop me from getting antsy while I’m waiting to be judged.”
“Judged?” John asked.
“Yeah, you know. Review my life and shit before I walk through the pearly gates.”
“Frank.” Almost, irritated John spoke. “What makes you think you’re getting into Heaven?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, for example, how many people did you kill last year?”
“Oh,” Frank grunted out. “That is unfair. That’s my job. Would you blame a postman for delivering a chain letter? Look, you’re here. You kill people.”
“I do not.”
“You do too. What about that flood?” Frank asked.
“What flood?”
“Oh, deny that one. You know. The one that fuckin wiped out everything but Noah and a pair of people or something like that.”
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